


Show Me Who You Are

by QuinnisFabray



Category: Glee
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, Faberry, Futanari, G!P, Rating: NC17
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-08-26
Updated: 2013-07-21
Packaged: 2017-11-12 22:15:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/496219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuinnisFabray/pseuds/QuinnisFabray
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rachel Berry has spent her entire life trying to hide who she is for fear of ridicule and ostracisation. Everything changes the day her friend creates a real face mask for her, opening up an opportunity to be someone else for a change. Things go further than she ever expected when she meets Quinn Fabray at a club and her nemesis doesn't even recognise her. g!p Rachel</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Appearances Can Be Deceiving

**Author's Note:**

> Written for an anon [LiveJournal](http://quinnisfabray.livejournal.com/) prompt: moderate plot, explicit oral, explicit sex, futanari, Faberry, g!p Rachel.
> 
> Yes, Rachel is equipped with the g!p this time and the quinnis is metaphorical, but we all know Quinn really owns the penis no matter who it's attached to anyway, right? :) I have two more chapters to this in mind, which I'll work on alternately with other things. A quick note on the prompt; no, Quinn doesn't scream Rachel's name when she comes, but there's a reason for that, as you'll find out in chapter 2. ;)
> 
> Prompt: gp!Rachel is afraid of being rejected by another girl thanks to her unusual anatomy (up to you the reason for her fears), so she decides to dress up as a guy (binding, real face mask, man wig) and even is able to change a bit of her voice (thanks to years of vocal training and some testosterone - she has more than a normal woman, less than an average guy). Then she goes to a club (a straight one), gets a little tipsy (not drunk, just enough to loosen up) and Quinn is there (because she's "not gay" - as in, afraid of her bigoted parents and all that shit). Anyway, they begin dancing, then grinding, one thing leads to another, they end up in a car. Quinn bj Rachel, then rides her. When she cums she screams Rachel's name (obviously not knowing that was actually Rachel).

It started as a joke. Patrick kept going on about the incredible genius of REAL-f face masks, brandishing pictures Rachel thought were so frighteningly realistic that Photoshop _must_ be involved. Of course, Patrick – an aspiring makeup artist – was offended by the notion and set out to prove Rachel wrong, promising he could make her look like anyone she wanted. She’d laughed and told him if he _really_ wanted to impress her, he’d make her look like she was his _brother_. And so the process began – first, a mould of her face as a canvas, and then he began to work from photographs of his own and his older brother’s face, sculpting latex and layering colours to match her skin tones. He couldn’t do a whole lot to shrink her nose, but he’d widened the latex version so it looked more African than Jewish, which went well with his broad, high cheekbones. When he began working on extending the mask down the neck to add an Adam’s apple, it started seeming like less of a joke, and maybe an opportunity instead.

She couldn’t help but think about how wonderful it would be to go out as a boy and not worry about her anatomy for a change. She wouldn’t have to tuck, and maybe she could make out with a girl without getting gay bashed or, worse, having her secret found out because she couldn’t control her physical reaction. She’d had enough of a taste of what it was like to be a “tranny” thanks to the Cheerios, and she really didn’t want to deal with the fallout of being known as the real thing. But maybe with that mask on... maybe she could have a chance to be normal for a night. Still, it didn’t seem quite right to fool someone, and who was she kidding – she was short and had obvious (albeit small) breasts and a too-high voice... but maybe, just... maybe....

When it was finished, Patrick took pictures for his portfolio and they had a good laugh, all the while Rachel’s nebulous idea tapped at the back of her mind. She asked to keep the prosthetics, just for fun and maybe a Halloween costume some year, and Patrick was more than happy to agree – after all, it wasn’t like the mask would ever fit anyone else. It sat on her dresser for a couple weeks, staring at her while she slept, serving as a creepy sort of audience for her MySpace video recordings. It was mid-February before she went shopping for a new wardrobe and a fake ID, but once she’d made up her mind to act on the fragment of an idea, she could hardly bear the anticipation.

She spent the week working on her vocal range, training herself to speak in a low, husky tone that seemed fairly androgynous when she listened to recordings of herself speaking. By Friday, she was nearly giddy with excitement and nerves, ready to take her shiny new alter-ego out for a spin. It was “date night” for her dads, so fortunately she wouldn’t have to spend an interminable supper with the two men, because they would _know_ something was up. Thankfully, they were going to be out, and as far as they knew, Rachel Barbra Berry was going to stay in for the night and watch musical classics whilst pampering herself with a mani/pedi and vegan bonbons. “Marcus”, however – Lima’s newest resident stud – was going out on the town to have a couple drinks and dance with pretty girls.

Rachel supposed a real man wouldn’t take so long to get ready, but Marcus took no less than Rachel’s usual hour and a half. Packing wasn’t necessary (it was a relief to not have to tuck for a change), but the mask and wig had to be properly secured, and despite the small size of her breasts, proper binding was required to complete the physical alterations. Next: motorcycle boots with inch-thick soles and a couple inches worth of heels that would give her a bit of a height advantage without making make her look too much like a guy with short man’s syndrome (because really, who likes that?), loose-fitting blue jeans, and a nice button down with an undershirt topped by a pleather motorcycle jacket (girls like the bad-boy image, right?). She stood in front of her full-length mirror, eying herself critically, grateful for once that she really had hips like a boy; she was pleasantly surprised by the transformation.

The Met wasn’t the classiest club around, but it was a step up from the dive bars that littered the main drag. The bouncer barely glanced at Marcus’ ID that said he was 24 and 5’5”, thanks in part to Patrick’s inclusion of a few fine lines and shading to hint at 5 o’clock shadow. The place was low-lit with what was probably supposed to be mood lighting above the booths and tables lining the walls on the way to the bar. The dance floor occupying the centre of the room was lit with alternately flashing lights that pulsed to the bass of whatever song was blaring across the speakers set into the ceiling. She feared for her perfect-pitch hearing, but at least it wasn’t smoky – sure having her voice drop an octave or so would help this particular illusion, but she really didn’t want to damage her vocal cords or lung capacity for the sake of a night on the town. Groups and couples were scattered in the booths and around the dance floor, but no one gave Marcus a second look as he made his way over to the bar at the far end – Rachel felt like she really needed a little liquid fortification to relax a bit.

“Whiskey sour,” Rachel shouted at the bartender, sliding a few bills across the bar. _That’ll be a little sweet, but not too much of a girly drink, right?_ Rachel thought she must be on the right track, or maybe the bartender just didn’t care – the fellow didn’t bat an eye and before long, she was sipping her drink, trying not to cough on the harsh whiskey that stung her throat despite the sweet-and-sour mixer. She turned to lean back on the bar, surveying the crowded dance floor, trying to play it cool while she looked for a... target for the night. _Good grief, you’re starting to sound like Puck... you aren’t_ hunting, _Rachel! Although I suppose it’s alright so long as I don’t start referring to myself as a sex shark. I guess that’s what I’m here for though – a little grinding, a little making out, a little_ fun.

There were groups of girls and mixed parties, but no girls who were obviously on their own and Rachel was trying to work up the nerve to approach one of the groups when her attention was drawn to the short staircase leading from the entry hall down to the dance floor. A blonde woman had paused as she came in to do some surveying of her own; her slender, athletic legs and curvaceous hips were topped by a sinfully short red dress with a plunging neckline, her hair pinned up in a swirling bun with a few loose little tendrils framing her sculpted face and her... _her gorgeous, hazel eyes. Oh, fuck._ Rachel froze like a deer in headlights; of all the places Rachel could’ve gone, of all the places _Quinn Fabray_ could’ve walked into – it had to be the same club.

 _Okay, Rachel, calm down – she’s never going to recognise you. You look like you and Patrick had a_ male _love-child, there’s no way Quinn will know who you are, and even if she does, the good little Christian girl isn’t going to go around telling people she was at an over-21 club with an obviously fake ID. Just relax and ignore her and pick one of these girls to go dance with and – oh dear Barbra, she’s looking right at me and... god, yes, she’s coming this way._

The blonde stalked across the room, hips swaying, seemingly bored with her surroundings and decidedly _not_ looking at the somewhat short, dark-haired guy leaning against the bar. Rachel was admittedly confused – after the smouldering look the cheerleader had given her, she was sure the girl was coming to call her out or say _something_ , but Quinn just slid in next to her at the bar without another look. Rachel knew she was being a little obvious with her sidelong glances, but she almost didn’t care – if Quinn didn’t _recognise_ her, then, well, what did she really have to lose?

“He’s buying my drink,” Quinn tilted her head in Rachel’s direction after receiving some fruity-looking-something that was _definitely_ too girly for Marcus to order, but probably a whole lot more palatable than whiskey.

Rachel looked up at Quinn in surprise to catch a faint smirk playing around the girl’s mouth. With a smirk of her own, she pulled her wallet out of her back pocket and laid a few bills down without a word. Finally acknowledging her directly, Quinn turned and smiled demurely at Rachel, head tilted down slightly to look up through her thick eyelashes.

“Marcus,” Rachel offered her hand in greeting, returning the smile.

“Quinn,” the blonde’s smile widened and she clasped Rachel’s hand, tracing her fingers against the sensitive palm. “Thanks for the drink.”

Rachel nodded politely in response, uncertain just what to say to her arch-nemesis in this new, neutral place. She was a little intrigued, fascinated with the idea of getting to know the blonde girl _outside_ of the school hierarchy; she’d only ever wanted to be friends, and if she couldn’t have that – for whatever reason – as herself, maybe she’d have a chance at satisfying her curiosity about the girl as Marcus.

“I haven’t seen you in here before,” the blonde tried, and Rachel was startled out of her musing to realise she’d been staring at the other girl while she sipped her drink.

“I haven’t been in here before,” Rachel decided to go for it; she’d watched enough cheesy rom-coms, she could do this. “But I had a feeling tonight would be... special. It looks like I was right.”

Rachel smiled, and Quinn blushed prettily, sipping her drink and leaning in just a little.

“Come dance with me,” Quinn tugged gently on Rachel’s hand, pulling her out to the dance floor. She’d finished her drink already, and Rachel wasn’t exactly sad to leave her half-drunk whiskey sour behind. Finding a somewhat-open area, Quinn wrapped her arms around Rachel’s neck and began swaying her hips to the beat. The pair was soon lost to the rhythm of the music, the throbbing bass pounding in their bones, bodies pressing together, hands wandering a little closer to dangerous territory. Rachel loved it – she’d never been able to just let loose like this before. She could dance, she could grind with the girl, press her semi-hard cock into her full ass, and it didn’t matter. It was _expected_. She almost wanted to cry, it was such a freeing feeling.

Sometime later, they were both panting and sweaty – well, _Marcus_ was sweaty; Rachel supposed Quinn was just _glistening_ – and made their way back to the bar to soothe their parched throats. Rachel went for a gin and tonic this time; it was a _little_ better. Although it tasted suspiciously like someone had washed the glass in Pine-Sol and not rinsed it properly, it wasn’t as harsh as the whiskey had been. She and Quinn chatted a bit about inconsequential, meaningless things like what kind of cars they drove and their favourite television show and goodness, isn’t that girl’s outfit terrible (Rachel only hoped that her earlier semi whilst dancing would stop Quinn thinking Marcus was gay after _that_ particular topic). After a while, they somehow trailed off, leaning towards one another, staring in each others’ eyes, fingers intertwined.

“Marcus?” Quinn caught one side of her bottom lip between her perfect, white teeth.

“Hmm?” Rachel tore her eyes away from that luscious mouth to meet amber pools looking up at her through thick lashes.

“I thought you might like to _come_ outside with me...,” the corners of Quinn’s mouth turned up in a slight smirk, one delicate hand trailing down Rachel’s abdomen to discretely fondle her penis through her jeans.

It was probably a little wrong, but the thought of hooking up with _Quinn Fabray_ sent a thrill through her veins. The girl had always been so nasty to her, and now here she was with her hand on Rachel’s cock, looking at her with those bedroom eyes and a seductive little smile. Rachel had never understood why Quinn hated her so much, and given the girl’s interest in her now, she was even more confused. Granted, they hadn’t conversed about much of any import, but her personality was one of the few things she _hadn’t_ tried to change tonight because if she couldn’t be in her own body for this, she’d at least like to know whoever she was with liked her as a _person_.

“Yeah, that sounds like fun,” Rachel returned the smirk, and allowed the blonde to lead her outside to where Quinn’s red bug was parked under a burnt-out lamp in the club parking lot. _How fortuitous_ , Rachel thought; she couldn’t help but wonder if Quinn had picked that spot deliberately, planning all along to drag any random guy out to her car. She didn’t have long to ponder the thought, as Quinn pushed her against the passenger side door and pressed against her body.

“You smell so good... I want you,” Quinn whispered in her ear, nuzzling against her neck. “I’ve wanted you since I first saw you across the dance floor, looking at me with those big, dark eyes of yours.”

Rachel’s breath hitched at the sound of that low, raspy voice so close to her ear. The latex on her neck was relatively thin, so even though she couldn’t feel the electricity of Quinn’s skin directly on hers, the pressure sent tingles straight between her legs to her hardening cock. That same delicate hand reached forward and began fondling her through her jeans again, stroking her to full hardness.

“Why don’t you show me how much you want me,” Rachel plucked courage out of thin air, her chest tightening with anxiety even as arousal coiled in her belly.

Quinn chuckled and caught an earlobe between her teeth, sucking gently.

“Maybe I will...,” the cheerleader popped the button on Rachel’s jeans with one hand and slowly lowered the zipper. Sliding her hand between skin and boxers, she wrapped her fingers around the straining member and squeezed gently as if testing the hardness.

“Mm, Quinn,” Rachel couldn’t help the twitch of her hips that bucked her cock into Quinn’s hand.

The cheerleader didn’t answer; instead she carefully knelt before Rachel, pulling the brunette’s clothes down just enough to free her rock-hard cock into the cool night air. Looking up at Rachel through half-lidded eyes, Quinn leaned in to nuzzle against full testicles, her hand stroking the rigid length as she darted her tongue out to taste the delicate, musky skin. Rachel moaned quietly and a bead of pre-come appeared at the tip of her cock. Quinn smirked and moved to swirl her tongue around the spongy head, sampling the salty-sweet fluid.

“Tasty,” Quinn pulled her mouth away to lick her lips.

“I, uh, eat a lot of fruit,” Rachel was trying really hard not to just shove her cock into the girl’s mouth. She’d never felt anything so divine as that warm, wet mouth suckling at the tip of her sensitive dick.

Quinn just smirked and leaned in to wrap her lips around Rachel’s cockhead. She sucked gently as she bobbed her head, taking a little more of Rachel’s shaft into her mouth. One hand was braced on Rachel’s slender thigh for leverage and the other – god, the other was between Rachel’s legs, fondling her balls, light fingertips stroking and caressing while that perfect mouth slurped and sucked, sending waves of concentrated pleasure through her body.

“God, Quinn... mm, yes, so good,” Rachel panted almost helplessly.

Fuck... the HBIC was on her knees in a dirty parking lot, sucking her cock. She must be dreaming, and if it was a dream, she was going to really enjoy it. Wrapping her fingers in silky blonde hair, she began thrusting carefully into the blonde’s mouth. Quinn moaned her approval and Rachel pushed forward a little too far, and _oh, lord,_ the sound of the blonde choking on her cock pushed her over the edge. Her knees weakened and she leaned back on the side of the car to hold herself up as she shot ropes of come into the cheerleader’s mouth. The girl swallowed, mouth working around Rachel’s cock and if she could’ve come again already, she would have at the sight of the prim and proper girl greedily slurping her come. As soon as Quinn had sucked down the last little spurt, she pulled her mouth off Rachel’s cock with a wet pop and began jerking her off, lubricated by spit and semen.

“Can you keep going?” Quinn asked, an almost desperate tone in her voice. If Rachel didn’t know better, she’d think the proud head cheerleader was _begging_.

“Y-yeah,” Rachel stuttered, closing her eyes and concentrating on keeping her hard-on. It wasn’t difficult – all she had to do was keep picturing Quinn on her knees with her mouth wrapped around her cock, sucking like it was her job.

“Good, because I’m not finished with you yet,” Quinn stood up, her hand never stilling on Rachel’s still-hard dick, and manoeuvred Rachel to the side to pull the car door open. Finally, reluctantly removing her hand from Rachel’s cock, she pushed the brunette down onto the seat and climbed in on top of her. She could just reach the reclining lever, and carefully popped the seat down.

The blonde wasted no time, hiking her dress around her waist and reaching between her legs to hold Rachel’s dick up and lower herself onto the rigid shaft. _Oh my god..._ Rachel felt her cock twitch at the realisation that the other girl hadn’t been wearing underwear under that short dress. She felt the silky heat pressing down on her sensitive cockhead and clutched at Quinn’s hips frantically to stop the girl’s descent.

“Marcus, what are you _doing_?”

And _there_ was the HBIC Rachel was used to – annoyed and bitchy, somewhat frustrated and vaguely disgusted. That tone and the scowl marring the girl’s beautiful face threw Rachel off her train of thought and she forgot for a moment where she was – _who_ she was – and what was happening. The diva stared up at Quinn, feeling small and confused, a sharp sliver of hurt chipping a piece of her heart away, just like it did every time the girl spoke to her like that. Something of her dismay must have shown in her eyes, because Quinn’s face almost immediately softened into a mixture of confusion and faint concern.

“I – I just, wanted to get a condom,” Rachel gathered herself enough to answer the girl’s question.

“Oh,” Quinn smiled softly – probably the sweetest expression Rachel had ever seen on her face. “It’s okay, I’m on the pill. Ever since... well, I’m safe, don’t worry.”

“O-okay, I’m sorry, I just –“

“It’s okay,” Quinn repeated, leaning down to brush a kiss across Rachel’s cheek. “Thank you for caring enough to think of it.”

Rachel wished she could’ve felt that kiss on her skin instead of having it wasted on unfeeling latex, but the thought was fleeting as Quinn began her descent again, her hot, wet pussy parting around Rachel’s throbbing cock. The blonde braced her hands on Rachel’s chest, and not for the first time, the diva was glad for the layers of clothing that would disguise the breast binding.

“Mm, Quinn, god....”

The girl’s juices were practically dripping down Rachel’s shaft, bathing her in slick arousal. Rachel knew she was just a bit above average in size, but Quinn was still so _tight_ , walls like searing velvet caressing her as the blonde slowly rode her. The cheerleader’s movements were a little awkward at first, as if she didn’t quite know what she was doing, but she soon settled into a smooth rhythm, Rachel thrusting up to meet her each time her hips descended.

“Marcus, f-fu-,” Quinn broke off with a gasp as Rachel felt the tip of her cock press against a hot, spongy spot inside. “Unngh, you feel so good inside me... it, mmn, it’s never felt like this before.”

Rachel’s hips jerked up into the soft, yielding wetness, a stream of pre-come shuttling out of her; she didn’t know how many guys Quinn might have been with, but it was incredibly arousing to think that she was having such an affect on the blonde. The look of helpless ecstasy on the girl’s face, the sounds she was making, the sheer heat pulsing around her dick were bringing her to climax much more quickly than she would have expected after coming so recently.

“God, baby, ride me,” Rachel panted, thrusting up more quickly, desperate to bring the girl to orgasm before she lost control.

Quinn let loose a guttural cry as Rachel’s cock stabbed at that sensitive spot inside her with each smooth thrust of the girl’s slender hips. She began jerking her own hips frantically, rubbing her swollen clit against Rachel’s abdomen each time she pressed down. Rachel could feel Quinn’s walls tightening, the heat of her squelching cunt almost burning her length as the girl plunged down onto her. The brunette strangled her own cries of pleasure, knowing the pitch of her voice would give her away if she wasn’t careful.

“Oh, oh, mmn, I – I’m gonna... Marcus!”

Quinn’s channel collapsed around Rachel’s shaft, her body convulsing wildly, crying out each time her rippling walls clenched to send a new wave of pleasure through her. Rachel thrust up into the girl as best she could against the weight of her pressing down, balls tightening as heat and raw pleasure coalesced in her groin. She came with a low growl, fingers digging painfully into Quinn’s hips, cock pulsing thick streams of come into the blonde’s silken pussy.

Rachel pulled Quinn down against her chest, trailing her fingers up and down the girl’s back, both of them breathing raggedly and shuddering through little aftershocks. Her now-soft dick was still gripped snugly inside Quinn’s tight channel and she thought she’d never felt as good physically as she did right now. Mentally was a different story; she was awash with a mix of confusing emotions – she’d just lost her virginity to the HBIC and come in her _twice_ after spending an evening dancing and having fun with her. She found she really liked the cheerleader away from school, where she wasn’t trying to be on top or put up a fa _ç_ ade of bitchy superiority. And she thought the blonde had genuinely liked her as well, and yet... Monday would bring no real change, she was sure of it. How could she like the girl so much, knowing what a bitch she was? Guilt was starting to set in, too – even though she’d just been herself, she wasn’t _really_ herself tonight, and she felt almost as if she’d taken advantage of the other girl who never would have been with her like this if she knew who “Marcus” really was.

“That was amazing... maybe we could do it again sometime?” Quinn rose up, looking down at Rachel with heavy-lidded eyes and a slight smile curving the corners of her mouth. Despite the blonde’s sex-kitten act tonight, Rachel could see a surprising vulnerability in those hazel eyes. It almost made her want to kiss the blonde, but that seemed oddly too intimate an action, despite the fact that her penis was still inside the girl.

Rachel bit her lip, uncertain if she should agree under false pretences, but finding she really didn’t want to _hurt_ the girl by being one of “those guys” who got what he wanted and turned into a callous asshole. Besides, Quinn wasn’t exactly known for her faithfulness, surely she’d get bored and move on to a new boy toy before the truth of Rachel’s identity could become a problem. Rachel decided she might as well enjoy being with her in the meantime, since goodness knows the head cheerleader had never been inclined to take up her offer of friendship. Worry started to edge out the vulnerability in Quinn’s eyes and Rachel smiled reassuringly.

“Next Friday?”

Rachel’s words chased the worry from the blonde’s eyes, faint relief washing over perfect, porcelain features. Quinn smiled in return and nodded, sliding out of the car to pull her dress back into place. Rachel tucked her cock back into her boxers and got out of the car to pull her pants back into place and zip up. The cheerleader had ducked back into the passenger side and Rachel watched curiously as she fumbled around in the glove compartment.

“Here,” Quinn handed Rachel a small slip of paper. “In case you’d like to get together before then.”

“Thanks, I’ll see you soon then,” Rachel winked and Quinn smiled shyly, placing another kiss on Rachel’s cheek before she moved around to the driver’s side.

Rachel contemplated the phone number as Quinn drove away; she already had it, of course – all the Glee members had each others’ phone numbers – but she wasn’t sure what she wanted to do with it. She knew she’d be back here next Friday, but wasn’t sure if she wanted to take this “relationship” out of the realm of casual hook-up. Still, she was drawn to the blonde, and fascinated by the idea of unlocking the enigma of the cheerleader who hated her as a girl, but seemed to genuinely _like_ her as a boy... _I guess I’ll have to get one of those disposable phones..._


	2. Know Thyself

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A look inside Quinn's mind and a return to The Met for Marcus and Quinn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This goes in a bit of a different direction; I hope the pronouns don't throw anyone off. Just remember "Marcus" is Rachel. :)

It was the first Sunday prayer in a long time that she hadn’t prayed for god to take something away from her. Instead, she got to praise god for sending her something she’d started to believe would never come to her. When the minister intoned the weekly “Let us pray” directive, she smiled and thanked god for answering her prayers.

Quinn had nearly given up hope of ever being normal. She’d always felt a little different: staring a little too long when a pretty girl walked by, paying more attention to the cheerleaders than the football players, feeling more comfortable around girls even when they were all talking about boys. When she was Lucy, she’d thought maybe it was just because boys made her nervous, and the girls – they were everything Lucy ever wanted to be. For a while after she transformed into a butterfly, Quinn thought it was probably just habit and old insecurities. And then Rachel Berry happened. The short, obnoxious, _loud_ girl with atrocious fashion sense, a too-big nose, a voice like an angel, gorgeous dark eyes, silky hair... well, there was a reason she was angry with Rachel. After all, if not for Rachel, she would have been able to continue on in blissful ignorance, never knowing why Finn didn’t make her heart race.

She’d tried for a long time to find a guy who could make her feel something besides nauseated and disgusted by their big, hairy bodies, sweaty palms, and crude erections pressing into her thigh. It was supposed to feel good, to make her heart beat faster and her loins pound, but really it only ever made her want to push them off and wash their touch away. She’d bounced between Finn and Sam and even gone so far as to let Puck get her drunk and take her virginity – hoping, _praying_ that something would change. It never did. And then Marcus happened.

Quinn sighed contently as the minister resumed his sermon, sending up a final thanks to god for the boy – _man_ – with his big, dark eyes – _so much like Rachel’s_ – and his ethnic features – _not Jewish like Rachel, but still so striking_ – and his small, gentle hands – _see, Rachel really does have Man Hands, they’re just like his_ – and his athletic, yet soft body that fit just right with hers – _well, mostly soft..._ Quinn felt her cheeks heat and looked down at her hands, clasped demurely in her lap. Her clit pulsed, a slight wetness making itself known between her thighs at the thought of him; his perfect, hard length buried inside her, thrusting into her core – god, he’d made her _wet_. She shifted, trying to relieve some of the pressure building between her legs; she knew she ought to be ashamed of herself, sitting in church and getting turned on by the thought of her Friday night hook-up, but she just couldn’t be – he was a gift from god, and she wasn’t about to be ashamed of being _normal._

The week passed by alternately entirely too quickly or tortuously slowly, Quinn watching her phone without _really_ watching her phone (it wouldn’t do to be _waiting_ for _anyone_ to call). At school, she could lose herself in lectures, or – increasingly more frequently – thinking of Marcus and the way he slid into her as if he was made for her, and how it would feel to have him pounding into her, his perfect cock hitting everything _just so_. More than once, she’d been tempted to sneak into a bathroom to relieve the ache, but if she hadn’t let pregnancy hormones drive her to such sin, she wasn’t about to let even a man as wonderful as Marcus have that affect on her.

Evenings were particularly difficult; the only company her mother seemed to care for was a bottle of Scotch, so it was just Quinn and her homework and her depressingly quiet phone. By Wednesday, she was starting to get nervous – had he changed his mind about her? Would he be there on Friday? Her insecurities grew and by Thursday, she was unable to pay attention in class at all, her mind working overtime, wondering if she’d ruined her chance of being anything more than a booty call, but _dear god_ , it had felt so good to _feel_ something with him, she’d just gotten swept up in the moment, fuelled by alcohol-lowered inhibitions.

The upshot of being distracted by thoughts of Marcus was _no longer_ being distracted by thoughts of Rachel Berry. The diva had mostly stayed off Quinn’s radar all week; she’d caught the girl giving her odd looks throughout the week, but each time, an icy glare had quickly sent that dark gaze – _almost as intense as Marcus’_ – skittering elsewhere. Glee was the most difficult; the brunette was such an attention-seeker, it seemed like she was always up in front of the class in those short skirts with those long legs and... Quinn had mastered the trick of closing her eyes and picturing Marcus to chase away sinful thoughts of the girl. He made her _feel_ something and he was handsome and maybe a little short and androgynous, but he was a _man_ and it was _normal_ and it didn’t _matter_ if Rachel made her heart race and her clit throb because Marcus did _too_ and she was determined to make something of it.

By Friday, Quinn’s mood couldn’t seem to settle on giddy with anticipation or sick with anxiety. What if he didn’t show? What if he _did_? Would she be able to convince him to go out on a real date? And lord help her, but if this was really going somewhere, she’d have to tell him she’s only 17; she was pretty sure he was old enough to be in there _without_ a fake ID, and she could only hope he’d be flattered rather than freaked when she told him the truth. Maybe she’d save that for next time, after they knew each other a little better.

She sat fidgeting uncharacteristically through her classes, bouncing her foot (feet crossed at the ankle like a _lady_ , thank you), tapping the end of her pencil on the desk, compulsively checking her phone (discretely, so as not to have it confiscated). She was vaguely disgusted with herself for getting so worked up, and _what would everyone think_ if they knew _Quinn Fabray_ couldn’t sit still because she was nervous-and-excited about meeting up with a _man_ later. Her mother would be horrified – right before she asked what kind of family he came from, and were they _Christian_ and did they have _money,_ not _does he treat you well_ and _is he responsible._ Because _what_ a potential suitor was, would always be more important than _who_ he was. Quinn almost let out an undignified snort at the thought that her mother really ought to be worried about the _sex_ of her suitor and _thanking God_ that it was a _man._

The buzzing of her phone startled Quinn out of her reverie and she darted her gaze around the room, pretending not to notice how beautiful Rachel looked, leaning pensively over her own phone. Reassured that no one was paying attention, she surreptitiously swiped her entry code to check her texts: one new message, from an unknown number.

_“Hey beautiful, I’m looking forward to seeing you tonight – I hope we’re still on?”_

Quinn could feel herself blushing and bit down on the inside of her cheeks to keep from smiling too widely as she tapped out her reply.

_“I’ll be there._ _:) ”_

_“Great, see you later then!”_

She saved the number and tucked her phone away, feeling something expand in her chest, filling her with a peaceful happiness – he hadn’t forgotten her.

Quinn had decided to be a little later than the previous week so she – _hopefully_ – wouldn’t have to sit at the bar alone, wondering if he was really going to show after all, and worse, fending off advances from drunken idiots who thought that a girl on her own was _obviously_ interested in hooking up with any guy who came along. Granted, she might have been such a girl just last week, but she’d found her guy and she wasn’t interested in any others – not when this one made her feel so much.

He was there, leaning against the bar just like last week, his intense gaze trained on the entryway. A toothy, beaming smile split his face at the sight of her, and for once she didn’t think about how perfectly white and even Rachel’s teeth are. She watched his eyes darken as she walked towards him, a little extra sway in her hips, a faint smirk curling her lips when his stare glazed over. She’d chosen another stunning dress, this one a deep emerald green that did amazing things to her eyes, with a scalloped bodice that showed off her collarbones and yet another almost sinfully short skirt for... later. It had obviously had the desired effect, and she could feel the result of her efforts pressing lightly into her thigh when she hugged him hello.

“You look gorgeous, Quinn, that dress is... wow.”

“Thank you, although you almost didn’t get to see it, it’s a good thing you texted me earlier,” Quinn smirked, trying to put a teasing glint in her eyes to hide the vulnerability she felt. Why _hadn’t_ he called her earlier?

“I’m so sorry, my phone broke and I couldn’t get it replaced until today – forgive me?” Marcus’ big, liquid eyes plead with her, and she really couldn’t resist when he looked at her like that – not any more than she’d ever been able to tell Rachel no.

“Hmm, I suppose, if you’ll buy me a drink,” she was teasing for real now, a flood of relief chasing away her doubts.

They spent the evening much like the week prior – dancing and sipping cocktails and chatting. He was so easy to be with, so kind and considerate and witty, even if a bit strident on some points, but, well, she supposed what had attracted her to Rachel was her _personality_ , so it shouldn’t be a surprise that she’d be attracted to a guy with similar qualities. He was so _different_ to other guys; she decided she’d just never been attracted to her boyfriends because their personalities just didn’t mesh. Certainly not because of their bodies; obviously, she’d just confused her attraction to Rachel’s personality as a physical attraction, because she was _certainly_ physically attracted to Marcus. Quinn loved the feel of his hands roaming her skin, the way his body moulded to hers while they danced, his hardness pressing into her ass. By the time they stumbled, laughing, from the dance floor for their second break, her clit was literally throbbing, wetness smearing between her thighs.

“Walk me to my car?” Quinn wrapped her arms around his neck, looking at him through her lashes. She felt oddly bashful, despite this being a repeat performance; maybe because it mattered more this time – they weren’t such strangers and she knew she wanted more than just this, even if she really _needed_ this tonight.

“Of course,” he smiled, a deep affection in his eyes alongside the prevalent lust.

Quinn had parked between a couple SUVs, providing a bit of a screen from prying eyes; she paused at the front of her car, turning to face him, biting her lip in what she hoped read as a coquettish manner, instead of the nerves she was really feeling. Marcus stepped closer, leaning in to lay feather-light kisses along her neck and she felt her eyes flutter closed when his tongue darted out to taste her, the throb between her legs growing more insistent. She reached between them to pull at his belt, only to have him push her hands away. Her questioning look was met with a heavy-lidded smile as he helped her up onto the hood of the car. The slope of the VW hood forced Quinn to lean back and hook her heels onto the bumper to keep from sliding off, but the awkward position was quickly forgotten in the wake of his gentle hands sliding across her inner thighs.

“I think I owe you one after last week,” Marcus’ light voice was lower and rougher than usual as he knelt between her knees, pushing her dress up toward her waist. She swore she heard a faint whimper when he leaned in to place a light kiss on the trimmed patch of hair above her pulsing clit, followed by the feeling of a wet, hot tongue gliding through her soaked folds. He’d know now that she wasn’t a natural blonde, but she couldn’t bring herself to _care_.

Quinn whimpered and her hips bucked involuntarily against him, his tongue swirling around her clit, lips sucking gently. She wondered for a moment if Rachel would have ever done this, if it would have felt this good, but thoughts of the diva were quickly swept away by the feeling of _Marcus_ ’ perfect mouth on her – no one had ever done this for her before; Puck hadn’t bothered, and she hadn’t let Finn or Sam get that far because really, if _kissing_ didn’t make her feel good, why would she ever go any further? But _dear lord_ this was heavenly and Quinn couldn’t decide what she liked better – his perfect cock in her mouth or spearing into her pussy or his tongue and _oh god_ his _fingers_ pressing into her, curling, stroking at that white-hot place inside her his cock had discovered last week. Delirious with pleasure, she resolved that they’d have to do it all again, and again, and again, until she could reach a conclusion.

“Mmm, yes... fuck, Marcus, I... unngh, yes!” Quinn’s hands scrabbled at the hood of her car, back bowing almost painfully. She could feel her walls clamping down on his fingers where they fluttered deep inside her, rubbing that spot. His mouth, that beautiful, amazing mouth, sucked hard on her clit, his tongue battering the hyper-sensitive little nub, sending bolts of electric pleasure through her body and she came again, hard, before her first orgasm had really even passed.

She was nearly sobbing her ecstasy, body still shaking and shivering through aftershocks when he pulled away. She could hear him fumbling at his belt and looked down to see that gorgeous cock hard and ready for her, the head an angry purple, pre-come dripping down the shaft. The pure, wanton desperation in his eyes sent a renewed flood of arousal through her and she felt her belly tighten in delicious anticipation when he stepped between her legs. He sheathed himself in her in one smooth thrust, his hands behind her knees pulling her legs around his slender waist.

“God, Quinn, you feel so good,” Marcus moaned, his eyes fixed on where their bodies joined together. He began at a rapid pace, pushing his cock into her and rotating his hips to grind against her swollen clit before he pulled out almost completely. The angle wasn’t quite as good as when she was on top last week, but it still felt _so good_ to have him plunging in and out of her, knowing that he was trying to ensure her pleasure even as he relentlessly pursued his own. He wasn’t huge, but he filled her perfectly and she could feel yet another climax approaching.

“Oh yes, Marcus... I love your cock... fuck me harder.”

Marcus surged forward; pushing in to the hilt, he withdrew only a couple inches before slamming back in with a snap of his narrow hips. The squelching of his rigid member moving in and out of her mingled with the sound of their harsh pants and stifled cries. Quinn could feel her walls swelling, grasping at his cock each time he pulled out, increasing the friction on each inward thrust. He slammed in hard with a sudden shout, his hips spasming against her and she felt a burst of liquid heat deep in her pussy. She would have been content to end then, but he brought his hand between them and pressed on her clit and she was coming again, her walls collapsing around his still-hard cock. Quinn lost herself entirely to pleasure; she wouldn’t have known (or cared) if they’d had an audience, she had no idea how loud she might have been, all she knew was the ecstasy flooding her body and the perfect, normal _man_ who had brought her there.

He helped her to her feet when she returned to herself and had recovered enough to move. She had shivered with a vague sense of loss when he pulled his flaccid penis out of her, and bit her lip watching him tuck himself away with a slight fascination. She wanted _more_ of this man, and as he helped her adjust her dress, she knew she had to grab hold of the moment.

“Listen, Marcus, I – I’d really like to see you, you know, outside of the club. Maybe in the daylight?” she smiled, trying to turn it into a joke, prepared for rejection despite how well things had gone up until now.

He looked at her, biting his own lip now, and she could see the hesitance in his eyes.

“Look, it – it’s okay, I understand if you don’t want to, I just thought...,” Quinn wanted to pre-empt the platitudes and excuses, she couldn't bear it from him, but he cut her off with a shake of his head.

“Quinn, no, it isn’t – I’m... well, maybe you won’t like _me_ in the light of day,” he smiled, and it didn’t quite reach his eyes, those dark, liquid pools filled with a sorrowful distress that she couldn’t quite place.

“I like you, Marcus, I’d like to – go on a date with you,” Quinn smiled shyly, trying to reassure him even as she fought to keep her own insecurities at bay.

“I’d like that, Quinn, truly, but – well, call me? Or I’ll call you? We’ll talk this week and maybe we can make some plans and we’ll just see how it goes, yeah?” he was rambling, almost Rachel Berry-style and Quinn’s smile morphed from shy to fond.

“That sounds good, I’ll look forward to it,” Quinn wanted to reassure him, but his answering smile was tremulous and she couldn’t understand what he was so worried about. She knew if they could just spend some time together, he’d see how perfect they were together, and she could introduce him to her mom, and take him to parties and everyone – _Rachel_ – would see what a great guy he was and how lucky – _special_ – she was to have him.

“Great, well, I, um, I should go – it’s getting late, and I don’t want to get caught in the closing rush.”

“Oh! Gosh, me too – time really flies. Thank you for tonight, Marcus, I had a great time,” Quinn squeezed his hand affectionately. She didn’t really want to go home, especially when things still seemed a little awkward for some reason, but she knew her mother would be heading home from “girl’s night” soon, and she wanted to make sure she was home first.

“Good night, Quinn, drive safely,” Marcus pressed a chaste kiss to her mouth before he left; it was sweet and tender, and she could taste herself on his lips. She wondered fleetingly if Rachel would have tasted similarly, but reminded herself that it didn’t matter because she has Marcus now and she doesn’t _need_ a short, annoying diva. She _doesn’t_.


	3. Digging Deeper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marcus and Quinn have their first real "date", and Rachel knows she can't keep pretending. Angst and feels abound.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, finally... ! It's been a while, hopefully this is still up to standard! As a reminder, Marcus is Rachel and "he" has hooked up with Quinn twice previously (she being unaware of "his" identity). Constructive criticism welcome as always. Thanks for your continued support! :)

Rachel knew she was in trouble. Vulnerable hazel eyes and shy little smiles that didn’t _belong_ on the HBIC’s face, but there they were. Directed at _Marcus_. She wished she could hate the blonde; this could all just be some sick joke to get back at her for being such a bitch all those years, but she couldn’t – she never had, even at the height of the other girl’s cruelty, and she _really_ couldn’t now – not when she’d seen how sweet and charming Quinn could be. Away from school. When Rachel wasn’t _Rachel_ , but instead a vaguely African-looking _man_ who just happened to be a lot _like_ Rachel.

_She likes Marcus... why can’t she like_ me?

Rachel knew she would have to come clean eventually; she already felt like she was in too deep – exchanging texts, planning dates – she couldn’t keep this up forever. Normal relationships would eventually move on from casual parking-lot hook-ups into deeper intimacy. Like sleeping together in actual beds. Naked. Where bindings would be stripped away and breasts would be all-too-obvious. Things had gone so far, so quickly, and now she wasn’t sure how she’d get out of this without hurting Quinn one way or another.

_Maybe... maybe if she could like me for me, maybe if I could get her to see who_ Rachel _is, it won’t be so bad._

The diva stalked into school on Monday with a new resolve, and a new mission – Operation: Get Quinn to Like or at Least Tolerate Me. She was determined to figure out why Quinn liked Marcus, but seemingly _hated_ Rachel. Otherwise, she feared Quinn wouldn’t be the only one getting her heart broken.

Quinn spent the weekend in a haze of quiet contentment. She’d actually found a man she liked and was even _attracted_ to, and they were going to go on a real date, and she wouldn’t have to try to figure out how she could fake it long enough to have a child to carry on her hypothetical future husband’s line. Maybe she could even try being nice to Rachel, since she didn’t have to worry about her... feelings for the other girl – not now that she had Marcus. She texted him as soon as she was coherent on Monday, and found herself unreasonably distracted watching her phone for a reply. It might hurt her GPA, but she was just supposed to be a housewife pumping out babies anyway, and this was her chance to be normal with a guy she actually _liked_.

Marcus was responsive via text, although oddly mostly between classes, almost as if he _knew_ she should be paying attention to something else. It was a reminder that he didn’t know the truth of her, and she realised that she didn’t really know the truth of him, either – what did _he_ do all day? Was he a student? Did he have a job? She’d already made up her mind that it didn’t matter, because this was _going_ to work out one way or another, but, well, she would truly like to be able to brag about him and rub her successful – handsome, sweet, charming - _boy_ friend in her father’s face.

Rachel’s plan was... partially successful and by mid-week it was all she could do not to stomp up to Quinn and tear the blonde’s phone out of her hands. It was obvious Quinn liked her – or, well, liked _Marcus_ – via text, but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t seem to get the blonde to pay her more than fleeting attention. She supposed she should be grateful that Quinn wasn’t being actively bitchy with her, although a certain snarky inner voice wouldn’t stop whispering that even _that_ was just because of Marcus and post-coital glow. The irony of the fact that she was competing against herself for her crush’s attention wasn’t lost on her, and Rachel decided she’d just have to try harder next week. Because by Thursday, they’d made plans to go to the concert in the park together on Saturday and she was entirely too distracted to maintain her focus on getting closer to Quinn as a _girl_.

Saturday arrived alternately slowly and frighteningly quickly, and Rachel was almost surprised how easy it was to slip into Marcus’ persona. She had to be a bit more sneaky since her dads were home, but they’d holed up in the theatre room for a Liza Minnelli marathon, so it was simple enough to get dressed – she’d gotten the time down to only an hour – and slip out to meet Quinn. The park was halfway across town, and the late-summer jazz concerts were popular; Rachel knew she was late and worried it would be difficult to find Quinn, but there she was, waiting at the park entrance in a sundress, with a picnic basket and blankets, wind ruffling her hair. The shy, slightly uncertain look the blonde wore made Rachel’s anxiety melt and it was all she could do not to sweep in and kiss the girl. _Not yet... not until... until she knows._

Quinn felt the ball of nerves in her stomach unravel when she caught sight of Marcus winding his way through the crowded parking lot. His eyes lit up when he saw her, and she thought she could easily spend the rest of her life being looked at that way. Ever the gentleman, he took the picnic basket from her and offered his arm, leading her to the top of the hill where they could spread the blanket above the crowds fanned out around the small stage. Saxophone and piano melded together above the strum of an electric guitar, the smooth jazz setting an intimate mood despite the crowd. Marcus helped her to sit, carefully arranging a blanket across her legs so as not to give anyone downhill a show, and sat next to her, his small hand entwining with hers.

She curled against his side, humming along to the song – it was a classic she remembered her grandparents playing on their record player, and it never failed to evoke memories of breezy summer days and lemonade on the big porch, the crackly sound of the record player drifting through open windows. Marcus turned to smile at her and he was so close – it was the perfect moment for a kiss – their first real kiss – and she couldn’t bring herself to take that step. It was too intimate, too close and her stomach twisted with the realisation that she didn’t want that from him. _What is wrong with me?_

To distract herself – and him – Quinn nuzzled into his neck, trailing one hand down his flat stomach. She wondered if he had washboard abs, and quickly banished the thought when visions of sculpted abs gave way to soft olive skin and a narrow waist flaring into slim hips. Clenching her jaw, she snuggled closer, determined to focus on the man she was with, instead of the girl that kept sneaking into her thoughts. She shut her eyes and rubbed circles on his stomach, her hand slowly drifting lower until she was caressing his half-hard cock under the light blanket.

Rachel gasped at the feeling of the strong hand stroking her to full arousal, the touch somehow delicate even through layers of clothing. She glanced around, nervous that someone might see and wondering just how bold Quinn was going to be out here in public. Thankfully no one was positioned particularly close and everyone’s attention seemed to be on the stage at the bottom of the hill. She closed her eyes, wishing she could feel Quinn’s breath hot on her neck, wishing that she had dared to kiss the other girl when they’d been so close moments before. She couldn’t help but wonder if the hesitation in her eyes had been as obvious as Quinn’s, but whatever reason the blonde shied away from a kiss, she was supremely grateful – she wasn’t sure how well the latex would hold up with that type of stimulation, and while she knew she needed to come clean, that wasn’t quite how she wanted it to happen.

Her attention was pulled back to the girl next to her when those strong fingers unfastened her jeans and slid between cloth and skin to gently squeeze her throbbing cock. Rachel’s hips moved of their own accord, thrusting herself into Quinn’s hand. The smooth skin of Quinn’s palm was like silk against the heat of her shaft, nimble fingers sweeping low to caress her heavy testicles. Quinn’s hand trailed higher to gather precum, smearing it against her throbbing length as she began to jerk her with long, smooth strokes.

“God, Quinn...,” Rachel whimpered, eyes drifting shut, face contorting with pleasure. The cheerleader was seriously testing her resolve, and a part of her wished she could keep up this pretense forever, because the girl felt _so good_ and she was so sweet with Marcus, she didn’t know how she’d be able to let her go.

Quinn needed this – needed to feel him throbbing in her hand, to hear his gasps, feel his hips jumping into her touch, to remind herself that he was _male_ , that she cared about him, _wanted_ him as he wanted her. She tightened her grip just slightly and sped the pace of her strokes, a shudder passing through her at the sound of his low moan that danced across her eardrums in a way only Rachel’s voice had before. The tone of his soft sighs and gasps became more urgent and she caught his earlobe between her lips, sucking gently and flicking her tongue against the fleshy lobe. With a quiet cry, he spilled himself into her hand, his hips rising up off the slope to buck against air while his body shook with pleasure. She kept her hand firmly wrapped around his cock, fist pulsing gently as it softened in her grip and stared into her lover’s eyes; those big, liquid pools that made her feel like she was drowning. Not for the first time, she thought of Rachel and the way her eyes were so similar, and for just a moment, allowed herself to wonder what it would’ve been like if it were Rachel here with her. The smaller girl’s folds slick and warm under her palm, fingers gripped snugly in the heat of her core... _damn it, no, you’re here with Marcus and he’s wonderful and male and this is_ normal... the waning light of the sunset sparked ruby highlights in his eyes – _just like hers –_ and her breath caught in her throat.

“Rachel...,” Quinn whispered, and then started when Marcus’ eyes widened with an odd mixture of surprise and... _fear?_ She didn’t take time to analyse his expression, hurriedly pulling her hand out of his pants to wipe her cum-drenched fingers in the grass, avoiding his gaze as he looked at her searchingly.

“Quinn, what... um, is everything okay?” Rachel’s heart was pounding in her chest. Had Quinn figured it out? Why was she acting like she was the one who’d done something wrong?

“Oh, I, uh, sorry, I thought, um, I thought I saw someone I knew,” Quinn stumbled, looking over Rachel’s shoulder as if searching the crowd past her.

Rachel could tell Quinn was faking, but couldn’t figure out why. _She doesn’t really think she saw me, she’s covering. So why did she say my name? Unless... was she already thinking of me? With her hand in_ Marcus’ _pants?_ Her head spun with the realisation that Quinn could have been thinking of her – the _real_ her – while being intimate with her seemingly male lover. _Oh my god, maybe she never hated me after all? Maybe she was mean because... oh my god, like a little boy in the schoolyard._

Fortunately, Quinn was preoccupied cleaning her hand with a bottle of water and a paper towel, so she didn’t pick up on Rachel’s stunned silence. By the time she’d finished and returned her attention to her date, Rachel had recovered enough for Marcus to be his usual charming self. Analysis ofQuinn’s behaviour would have to wait for later – when Rachel _wasn’t_ busy with one of the greatest acting challenges of her short life. Pretending to be a boy was one thing, but pretending she hadn’t just received a huge shock, well, her fathers’ investment in acting classes was certainly paying off right about now.

As Marcus returned his attention to the concert playing on below them, Quinn fought to hold back tears at the realisation that no matter how wonderful Marcus was, he was just a substitute. _Why can’t I be normal? Everything was supposed to be okay now._ The excitement of really clicking with someone, of finding him attractive and enjoying his company, had allowed her to ignore the fact that he was male. _Even if it wasn’t for Rachel, this could never be right._

Rachel tried to stay focused on the – surprisingly talented – band playing at the base of the hill, even as her thoughts churned over the fact that the charade would have to end. With the thought that Quinn might have feelings for _Rachel_ and not just _Marcus_ , she knew she’d have to confess. Even if she turned out to be wrong and Quinn really did hate her, she couldn’t keep doing this. It was one thing when it was a one night stand, but things had gone entirely too far. _How did it all get so complicated so quickly?_

“Quinn, is there someplace we could go to talk?”

“Marcus, we need to talk...,” Quinn looked up in surprise as they began speaking at the same time. She smiled faintly, realising that they’d both had the same idea. _Well, maybe not the_ exact _same idea, but still, it’s a good thing mom’s at that bible study retreat this weekend._ Of course, “retreat” was code for cocktails and bridge, but that was nothing new, even if the frequency of the “get-aways” had increased since her father had left.

“Sure, yeah, my -,” Quinn cut herself off; Marcus still didn’t know she was only 17, and announcing that her mom was out of town was probably not the best way to tell him. She wished she could use the age gap as an excuse for breaking things off, but she wasn’t sure he would care, and, well, she was going to have to start being honest sometime since it had become painfully obvious that she wouldn’t be able to fake her way through the rest of her life. Even if she wished she could.

“Quinn?” Marcus prompted gently.

“Oh, right, sorry, we, um, we can go to my place,” Quinn stumbled as Marcus jolted her out of her reverie.

Packing up their belongings, the pair headed to their individual cars and Rachel was careful to be sure she _followed_ Quinn across town, instead of just driving to where she knew the cheerleader lived. Granted, she was about to expose a huge pair of secrets, but she didn’t need to make the girl think Marcus was a _stalker_ before that. Pulling into the driveway behind the bright red bug, Rachel realised with a sickening jolt that it was the first time she was visiting Quinn’s home as an invited guest, and it wasn’t even as herself. _There’s no way she’ll accept me, just... no way._

Consummate hostess to gracious guest, Quinn showed Rachel to the parlour room and offered a glass of wine, downing half her own in a single gulp. Rachel couldn’t quite figure out why _Quinn_ seemed so nervous, but she steeled her resolve and stepped into the other girl’s space. Grasping Quinn’s hands in each of her own, she ran gentle circles across the smooth skin with her thumbs. Afraid of what she might see in the other girl’s eyes, she kept her gaze trained on the contrast of their skin.

“Quinn, I – I have to tell you something,” Rachel started, only to have Quinn pull away and hold up a hand in a request for silence.

“No, please, let me go first. This is going to be difficult enough without, well... please, just let me get this out.”

Looking up in surprise, Rachel was unsettled to see tears brimming in hazel eyes. _What could this possibly be about? She can’t know, she wouldn’t be this calm..._ recalling how they’d met, she wondered if Quinn was about to confess her true age. Not that it would matter anyway, but it made Rachel desperate to tell Quinn the truth – if the strong, proud girl cared enough for Marcus to be near tears at the thought of his reaction to her age, she knew she had to tell her. It would be cruel to continue lying.

“Marcus, I really care about you,” Quinn started, and Rachel felt her heart sink into her stomach. She knew there was no way to get out of this without breaking both their hearts, and wished she’d never gotten the idea to masquerade as someone she wasn’t.

“But I’m not who you think I am,” the blonde continued and Rachel closed her eyes on her own tears. _Here it comes_.

“I, um, god, I can’t believe I’m about to say this, and I hope you understand why I did what I did, it’s just that I’m not – I didn’t know how to tell you, and -,”

“Quinn,” Rachel gently interrupted the girl’s ramble. “Quinn, it’s okay, I – I know you’re only 17, and it’s okay, I haven’t –,”

“What?” It was Quinn’s turn to interrupt. She didn’t know how he knew, and at the moment, couldn’t be bothered to care. She just needed to get this out. “No, that isn’t – god, I wish it were that simple.”

Quinn shook her head, tears spilling over beneath her closed eyelids. Rachel was well and truly confused now. What on earth could the girl be so upset about?

“I... I’m gay.” Quinn clapped a hand over her mouth, one arm wrapped tightly around her own waist as if to hold herself together. Her shoulders shook with great heaving sobs, tears streaming down her face.

Rachel was equal parts elated and terrified. On the one hand, it meant she might have a chance as herself after all. On the other hand... she’d been lying to Quinn for weeks, and Quinn would certainly expect Rachel to be, well, all girl, and... would she be able to just walk away as Marcus, and then pursue Quinn on her own? Would the blonde somehow recognise her if they became intimate? _She has had a rather up-close-and-personal view of my... no, if there’s any chance, we have to start with 100% honesty. Even if telling the truth ruins everything, I don’t think I could live with this secret._

Quinn couldn’t believe she’d just blurted it out like that. She had never wanted it to be true, but she couldn’t continue lying to herself, and Marcus had been so good to her – he deserved better. He was just standing there staring with this slack-jawed look of shock, and she really couldn’t blame him. She hated herself in that moment, for hurting him, for being unable to just be _normal_ , knowing she could never live up to her family’s expectations and his wouldn’t be the only heart broken. She was breaking her own heart, and her mother’s, and her sister’s, and god knows her father would never – could never – accept her... _why does everything have to be such a mess? Why couldn’t he be right?_

A gut wrenching sob broke Rachel from her stunned state and she realised she’d just been staring blankly at Quinn after the girl bared her soul. The cheerleader must be feeling devastated and terrified in her own right. Rachel knew what kind of upbringing the girl had – conservative Christian, anti-gay – of course she’d be struggling with this and probably regretting ever saying it aloud.

“Quinn, it’s okay,” Rachel soothed, pulling the trembling girl into an embrace.

“How – how can you say that, after what I did to you?” Quinn pulled away slightly, clinging almost desperately to Marcus’ shoulders. She didn’t understand how he could be so calm about this. She’d led him on, lied to him...

“Because you aren’t the only one pretending to be someone you’re not.”

“Why, are you gay, too?” Quinn released a slightly bitter laugh – what, had he used a fake ID, too? Maybe he was an ex-con? How could he think anything he’d done compared to her lie?

“Yes.”

Quinn stepped back, a mixture of shock and disbelief painting her features. Marcus looked terrified and uncertain and tears glittered in those gorgeous eyes of his.

“Oh, Marcus,” she breathed, stepping forward to wrap her arms around the man. No wonder he wasn’t upset. A part of her thought she should be angry – he’d lied to her, too, after all – but she was more relieved that she _wasn’t_ hurting him as badly as she thought, and maybe they could manage to salvage a friendship out of this mess.

“But... not in the way you think,” Marcus whispered and Quinn pulled back, brow furrowed in confusion. “I’m gay, but... I’m not a man, not really.”

Rachel watched Quinn closely, waiting for the pieces to click into place.

“What? But you -,” Quinn broke off with a glance at Marcus’ crotch. She _knew_ what was concealed by his jeans – there was no way that was fake. _For goodness’ sake, I swallowed his... and tonight, in my hand, he..._

“I, yes, I have a penis, but I’m not, I... I have to show you something,” Rachel took a deep breath and cleared her throat, allowing her voice to slide back into its natural register. “Please, just give me a chance to explain?”

Quinn blinked at Marcus – his voice was lighter, higher now, and oddly familiar and... Quinn felt her eyes widen in horror and she backed away from him slowly until the back of her knees hit the couch.

“Please, Quinn,” Rachel begged, “please just listen.”

Quinn felt lightheaded and her knees buckled, forcing her to collapse onto the couch. Why _does he sound like Rachel? What is he? She? What is going on here?_ Her mouth opened and closed uselessly and she just stared at him – _her?_ – waiting for some sort of explanation.

“I never meant for it to go this far, you have to believe me. I never meant to meet you like this at all, I just wanted... I just wanted to feel _normal_ for once,” Rachel felt like she couldn’t get the words out quickly enough. She just needed Quinn to _understand_.

“What are you saying? What... what _are_ you? _Who_ are you? Why do you sound like...,” Quinn looked up with wild eyes and Rachel knew she’d have to _show_ her.

“Just – just give me a chance to explain, okay? Just, promise me you’ll let me tell you everything.”

Quinn nodded jerkily and Rachel took a deep breath, reaching to un-tuck her shirt. Unbuttoning her overshirt, she let it slide off her shoulders onto the floor and then pulled her undershirt over her head, exposing the tight bandage that bound her breasts. She knew the edges of the latex mask must be visible now, but Quinn’s eyes were glued to the bandage, seemingly unwilling to accept what she was seeing. Setting the clasps onto a side table, Rachel unwound the bandage and let it fall to the floor with her shirts.

Quinn’s eyes bulged and she stared open-mouthed at the – _rather luscious_ – breasts that were exposed. She licked her lips, watching the dusky nipples harden in the cool air of the room. The sound of Marcus’ – _Rachel’s_ – voice reminded her of the situation and she snapped her eyes up to his – _her?_ – face.

“That... that isn’t all, as you, um, probably guessed.”

Anxiety squeezed Rachel’s lungs, making her short of breath as she fingered an edge of the mask against her collarbone. Quinn’s eyes dropped to follow the movement and her expression changed from lustful to wary.

Rachel ran a finger around the edge of the mask, loosening the spirit gum that affixed the latex in place. It pulled a bit and parts of her skin felt sticky with residue, but she didn’t want to put this off to find rubbing alcohol or acetone. _This needs to be done now_. With a shaky inhalation, Rachel pulled the mask and wig off in one movement, allowing her own long hair to tumble free. Quinn just stared at her, white with shock, and Rachel fidgeted a bit under the girl’s gaze.

“Quinn, I’m so sorry, I...”

“What – what is this? Some sort of joke? You wanted to get me back for how I treated you before?” Quinn struggled to pull her HBIC face on, but she knew her expression was telegraphing her hurt and confusion. This was just too much to take, too much to keep behind her own mask.

“No! No, Quinn, I swear, I never wanted to hurt you, it’s just – things got out of control and -,”

“And what? Why, Rachel? Why else would you do this, if not for payback? Make the HBIC like you and then pull the rug out from under her? Only you got a lot more than you ever expected, didn’t you? Well congratulations, you know my biggest secret, you can tell everyone now.” Quinn could feel the corners of her mouth pulling down sharply, a sick feeling settling in the pit of her stomach.

“Quinn, I would never – you have to know that I wouldn’t -,”

“Are you joking right now? A week ago, I might have thought I knew you, but now?” Quinn shook her head, thoughts whirling in circles. She was determined to be straight, found a guy she thought she could like, couldn’t keep up the charade, and now it turns out “he” is actually the girl she’s been crushing on – and making miserable – for three years? She nearly choked on the bitter irony of it.

“You do know me. I’m still the same person – you know Rachel, you know Marcus – both of those people are me. You just... you never gave me a chance to show you who I am as Rachel. And then I met you that night as Marcus, and you seemed so different, I just... wanted to know you.”

“So, what, you thought you’d lie to me? How – how long did you plan to carry on? I mean, what, you thought we’d get married and live happily ever after and you’d just never take your shirt off?” Quinn felt a hysterical laugh bubble up in her throat.

“Look, I know I’m not really a girl, but I’m not a man, either, and I – I _feel_ like a girl. I don’t want to be a man, I never have, but I just wanted to feel _normal,_ like it... like I wasn’t a freak, just for one night. And you were there, and I... I got to see another side of you and I just wanted you to like me, even if it was as someone else.”

_Normal_. Rachel’s words resonated with Quinn – how could they not. She knew what that felt like; the desperate desire to not feel like there was something wrong with you. She’d done the same thing, after all – gone to a club, pretending to be someone she wasn’t, all in a bid to convince herself – _even for one night –_ that she was normal. But what now? Neither one of them would ever be “normal”.

“I...,” Quinn stared into those deep, dark eyes, pleading silently for understanding, for _acceptance_ , and felt her resolve crumble. “God, Rachel... you’re all I ever wanted.”

Quinn stepped forward to wrap her arms around the smaller girl, felt the light body trembling in her arms. She felt herself relax, her body moulding to the smaller frame and thought, for the first time, she really, truly felt _right_.

“Maybe... maybe being together _is_ normal, for us,” Quinn’s raspy voice whispered in Rachel’s ear and she felt her eyes sting with fresh tears.

Rachel pulled back just slightly, eyes flitting across those sculpted features, searching for... something. Whatever it was, she found it, and impulsively she leaned forward, pressing their lips together in their first actual kiss. The blonde’s lips were soft, moving gently against hers, and one of them sighed before the kiss deepened, tongues tangling as they held one another close. Rachel felt like she was drowning, her entire being consumed by the girl she was _finally_ kissing as _herself_.

Quinn couldn’t stop her hands roaming and she revelled in the shiver that passed through her lover’s frame when her thumbs brushed across hardened nipples. She could feel Rachel’s arousal pressing into her leg and even though it was wrong, it was still so right, so perfect. Ending the kiss, she pulled away slightly and smiled tenderly at the apprehension in the other girl’s eyes.

“Come upstairs with me?” Quinn’s soft alto swept Rachel’s nerves away, and she found herself returning the small smile the blonde directed at her, joy bubbling up in her heart even as her abdomen clenched in anticipation.

Gathering her shirts and breast binding, Rachel trailed Quinn upstairs to the girl’s surprisingly cosy bedroom. She’d always expected an austere, spartan space with no personal warmth, but the room was decorated in dark woods and deep greens, cluttered with overflowing bookcases and swirling, abstract art. The decor hinted at a depth that she’d caught glimpses of in Quinn, now and again, and a part of her was thrilled to be allowed into this inner sanctum, even as seductive hazel eyes and soft curves held her attention captive.

“I want to see you,” Quinn murmured as she began to tug at Rachel’s belt, dipping in to kiss the small brunette again.

Rachel grasped at Quinn’s sundress, bunching it up around the girl’s waist and pulling back to sweep it over her head, even as Quinn lowered the zipper on her jeans. Her cock ached behind the confinement and she felt herself twitch as she took in the site of the curvaceous blonde standing before her in delicate lace undergarments. The girl crouched to undo Rachel’s boots, a quiet giggle escaping her when Rachel stepped out of them and returned to her normal height. Quinn didn’t allow her time for indignation, pressing against her to sweep her tongue into Rachel’s mouth while her hands worked the elastic of the brunette’s boxers over her hard cock. Pushing the girl’s clothes to the floor, Quinn stepped back, eyes darkening as she took in the sight of the petite girl with her turgid member standing at attention.

“You’re beautiful, Rachel. You’ve always been beautiful. I’m so sorry I ever made you feel like you aren’t,” Quinn’s expression was slightly awestruck as she took in the sight of the girl, and Rachel felt some deep hurt heal over, those slivers of her heart that had chipped away with all of Quinn’s unkind words somehow mending. She surged forward, cupping the blonde’s face in her hands to pull her into a keep kiss. Hands skating across heated ivory skin, she stripped the lace from Quinn’s body as she steered her toward the queen-sized bed against the far wall. Quinn scooted up the bed, parting her legs slightly in invitation and Rachel nearly fell into her embrace, the bulbous head of her cock nestling at the girl’s molten entrance.

“Quinn...,” Rachel’s voice was low and whispery, her liquid eyes saying everything she couldn’t yet vocalise. She pushed into the girl, those silken folds parting easily before her rigid shaft. A low groan tore from within her at the feel of the drenched heat gripping her length and she paused, pressed in to the hilt, overwhelmed at the sensations of being tangled so intimately, every part of her within, around, against the gorgeous blonde.

Quinn wrapped her legs around Rachel’s slender waist, a soft cry of pleasure escaping her as the girl filled her so perfectly. Their breasts mingled and the smooth slide of so much _skin_ was a heady feeling. She almost regretted that their first times had been so rushed and frenzied, their bodies separated by layers of clothing, cramped and twisted in small, uncomfortable spaces. And then all of her higher thought was banished as Rachel began to _move_ , her hard length sliding in and out of Quinn’s greedy, grasping channel, her soft abdomen bumping against Quinn’s throbbing, engorged clit.

Rachel’s breath was ragged in her ear as the girl moved atop her, hips thrusting harder and faster, driving them both toward the edge. The light squeak of the bed frame was almost drowned out by the wet squelch of their bodies meeting and Quinn clutched frantically at narrow shoulders when the girl shifted her angle, hitting something white-hot deep inside her even as her abdomen pressed more firmly against her centre. Rachel could feel the girl’s insides fluttering and clenching around her, and she pushed deeper, harder through the increasing pressure, shortening her strokes to stay in contact with the hardened nub rubbing against her.

“Mmn, fuck... Rachel!” Quinn’s hoarse cry echoed through the room as she climaxed, her orgasm rolling through her with an intensity she’d never felt before as she cried out the name she’d been holding back for so long.

Hearing Quinn call _her_ name, not Marcus’, feeling those deliciously tight walls clamp down around her, Rachel followed her lover into oblivion, spilling herself into the girl. Her mouth hung open in a silent cry as she rocked against the blonde, prolonging both their pleasure. When the final spasm passed, she shifted to prop herself on her elbows, softening cock still gripped in a deliciously tight heat. Her stomach twisted at the sight of tears trickling down Quinn’s porcelain features, and she felt tears sting her own eyes. _She doesn’t want me after all, god, it was just shock and confusion and –_ Rachel clamped down on her internal babbling and moved to pull out of the girl, only to be stopped by Quinn’s hands on her hips, holding her close.

Quinn could see the fear in Rachel’s gorgeous, dark eyes, the shimmering tears that threatened to fall. She didn’t want the girl to leave in confused hurt, not now that she was finally able to admit to herself what she’d wanted all along. She took a deep breath and soothed a hand up Rachel’s side, trying to offer some comfort while she gathered the thoughts that had been scattered by the overwhelming surge of her climax.

“Rachel, I... I’m in love with you. _You_ , not Marcus. As wonderful as he was... he was no comparison for you. I, um, I hope you’ll give me a chance to – to be more than a Friday night hook-up or the mean cheerleader.”

Hearing those words now, after everything, the tension melted out of Rachel’s body and she relaxed against the blonde, an almost giddy smile playing at the corners of her mouth.

“Quinn, you’ve always been more than that to me,” Rachel leaned down to brush her lips across Quinn’s. “ _I love you, too_.”


End file.
